Sunrise for the Reaper

 

It’s funny how human beings deal with their problems. To them no crisis is as big as the one that haunts them from the moment they wake up to the minute they go to bed. Breaking up can feel like the world is sitting on your chest squeezing down with each passing minute that goes by until one day you’re just over it and find someone else that will occupy your thoughts. The death of a loved one leaves you feeling like there could have been more to say or do before that final moment when they took their last breath of carbon monoxide as it flowed inside the enclosed garage. The isolated feeling so many of us get when we feel like we could have accomplished so much more than what we have at our age finally overwhelms us to the point of just giving up. We look towards those who at the age of five had already conducted their first symphony or by thirty-seven had stained the ceilings with historic proportions which would forever live in the minds of those who followed thereafter.

We are brought up in a world where we are led to believe that those who don’t follow in an infamous path are just strewn away to the side forever lost in the spirits of those who continue to strive. We see actors on television in their tiny worlds we tell ourselves truly exist, when in reality, they’re nothing but stacks of wood built up to resemble some recognizable situation. They never have any jobs to go to and never any problems that can’t be fixed in the thirty minutes the networks have given them until the next group of actors sweep across our television and make us forget about that deadline we have in the morning… at least for another thirty minutes.

Staring out over a skyline only few of us every get to see from such a wonderful view would ordinarily make one feel at peace with the world. But when you’re staring out over the Manhattan skyline from thirty stories up on the other side of where one usually stands, things aren’t so picturesque.

 

 

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It’s relatively warm outside despite the last remnants of ice that have stopped falling from the ice storm that night. A bird flutters by as if in slow motion and just as it passes by the young man sitting on the edge of one of the many New York high-rises; it seems to wink at him as if to say, “Do you want to know a secret.” It disappears into the swirls of purple and blue that make up the backdrop of our friends final resting place. His feet dangle over the 1920’s marble as he overlooks the street that sits miles below. A smile appears on the mans face as he thinks of how free it would be to fly around without a care in the world not having to deal with decisions or emotions. To just fly around from city to city, building to building, person to person and watch from above as man slowly destroys himself would be the ultimate freedom of one’s expression.

And so he sits with his feet still dangling and his mind still running a marathon as to why he sits where he does waiting for the courage to finally end what he started in the first place. How easy it would be to just forget about everything that had gone wrong in the past year and put it out of his mind by slamming it on the cold concrete below. He spits and watches as it falls and twirls like a torpedo into the ground and thinks on how soon he will be reunited with a part of himself again. He grabs the windowpane from behind him and lifts himself up slowly as the wind tears through his once nicely combed hair. His pricey Christian Dior tuxedo looks more like he fished it out from the corner of his closet. It has been unbuttoned revealing his carefully ironed white shirt and a bow tie hanging on one side of his collar.

He takes one final look inside his apartment. He left the light on in the corner casting its life onto his leather sofa and love seat with matching lazy boy, above it a Van Gogh original, Wheat Fields with Reaper at Sunrise. He graces the satin curtains that slide between his fingertips like tiny droplets dancing down a windowsill. He turns his head facing the outside world saying one last goodbye, his lips tightly shut and his eyes closed even tighter. He winces at the thought of feeling the pain of the thirty-story drop climb through him like a bunch of nails driving through his gushing heart. He has tasted life; it is now time for him to taste death. As soon as he has made his decision to depart from this materialistic world, he is startled by a gunshot he hears from what seems to be across the world. Shaken by the noise, he slips over a piece of ice that still clings to the ledge and finds himself dangling with one hand gripping the edge while the other drops down by his side.

He stops, motionless, and stares in the direction of the gunshot. Oh, if only it were that easy. If only that gunshot had been in a different direction. Then he wouldn’t have to continue staring at the magnificent drop, wincing at the thought of feeling its repercussions, but embracing the idea of feeling nothing after that. He staggers, pulling himself back onto the ledge avoiding the piece of ice that almost caused his eternal demise. How easy it would have been to have just let the piece of ice glide him down toward the street. So, why grab on? Was it a moment of brief hesitation that caused him to reconsider ending it? Or maybe it was the thought of not being in control of the moment he says goodbye to the world? Whatever it was, he was still alive.

He stands along the wall breathing heavily. The wind catches his face once again pelting him with shame and expressing its dissatisfaction for the stunt he is about to pull. Shielding his face from the blows, he turns inside and hears a familiar song playing from the upstairs neighbor. He stares across the room as if caught in the moment. But not this moment. A moment that at one point didn’t resemble greed or lust. A time when he wasn’t concerned about showcasing the most expensive clothing. When he wasn’t as worried about an image he would soon leave buried in the ground below. He always rolled his eyes at the thought of ‘if I knew then what I know now,’ but boy if he only did. He would have done everything differently.

Snapped out of his trance by the beeping of a garbage truck on the adjacent street, the man turns back out to face what’s left of his life. He staggers with the notion of returning back to the soothing arms of his apartment but instead confines himself to the 12-inch base that had become his new dwelling.

He leans against the wall staring out into the sky. I wonder who will miss me? He questions. She certainly won’t. She’ll most likely read about it in the paper or see it in the news. But it won’t affect her. Not after what he did. He honestly believed he deserved to die.

Suddenly, a shadow creeps outward from his peripheral vision snapping him from his internal struggles. He looks to his left and sees a young girl climbing out onto the ledge. She’s dressed in a red evening gown and looks no older than 25. She looks over at the man and leaps out onto the ledge as if she had room to spare. Her feet dance as they clasp the edge of the platform until resting along the wall a few windows down from the man on deaths door. She dusts herself off, then lights up a smoke while gazing out into the sky.

Girl: It’s a gorgeous night.

He looks at her and then straight-ahead.

Boy: Yes, I suppose it is.

The girl exhales, half her breath mixing with the chill of the night. The smoke quickly disappears as she looks over at him. He seems small and vulnerable as she walks over to him, side stepping gracefully until finally she stands in his shadow. He looks up at her with a sense of sadness.

Girl: Would you like one?

He looks at her with questioning eyes.

Girl: You look like you could use one of these.

Boy: God yes, could I please?

His eyes tear with joy at the thought of enjoying at least five minutes of calm serenity. God how long had it been since he clenched one of those cancer sticks between his teeth? The thought of inhaling the carbon monoxide slowly in through his mouth that kissed the tip of the Marlboro light 100 made him want to melt right there alongside that glowing piece of ice that stared at him, mocking his integrity.

They both lean against the wall gazing out into a world that seems to be at peace with itself. And out of nowhere, like a lighting bolt of information, the man begins to speak. More rapidly about how he understands what he’s done wrong in life and how there’s really no going back. How he could have been a better person. How much he did love her and hated to hurt her the way he did. But mostly, he was saying goodbye and she was fortunate enough to listen.

And with a longing to finally find someone to reciprocate her feelings, the girl opens up and explains how much she understands what he’s talking about. And how life really is just a constant struggle between figuring out who you are and what your purpose is. And unfortunately by the time you figure it all out, it’s too late. She admits her faults and agrees that most of her life she was really just too scared to look forward and focused only on the past. The man agrees and admits he too would only find a moment in his life worthwhile years after that time had taken place. How life was just a running memory only appreciated after the moment is gone.

Hours pass and the two continue their whimsical banter. They share another cigarette. They even get comfortable enough to sit down and dangle their legs over the edge. At one point the girl lifts her head back and laughs at something he has said. He also shares a smile and for the first time we see life begin to slither back into this once tortured soul. Around them, nothing matters but what they’ve both begun to realize about life’s funny games.

The clouds begin to break and the sky’s color seems to separate into lighter blues and purples. The first moments of light have started to seep through the air and turn the night into morning. Snow mixed with ice softly begins to fall around the two individuals. The man and woman sit calmly on the edge with their heads against the stone marble wall smiling in their early morning daze. The girl mentions how beautiful it is once again and with a smile the man agrees. She remarks on how wonderful it would be to take a walk along the sidewalk and maybe even up to the park.

They both sit there in silence watching the ice shoot down from the sky like miniature glass sculptures that highlight the gleaming lights of the city in the morning. The man turns to the girl and grabs her hand. Together they stand upward on the ledge; the man shakes his legs to circulate the blood flow once more. The two lean against the wall and stare at each other. They both nod and agree that life is indeed too short. As they peer outward into the sky, the sun begins to blow out the remainder of the night. A bird flutters by and smiles at the man as if to say, “Do you want to know a secret.” The man winks back at the bird as if to say, “I think I figured it out on my own.”

And then, with a final breath, the two leap forward, away from lost hope and towards a captured dream. Together, hand in hand, they ascend downward towards the city sidewalk with millions of ice cycles dancing around them. The building rushes behind them in slow motion; the man and woman caught in their own dimension of time separate from anything else that’s occurring around them. But as the world continues to move about its daily routine carrying on as if it really were just another day, in a few moments, nothing will matter to him, and now to her, for they will finally feel no pain or happiness at all. They will feel only nothing.